


Draco's New Year, or How to Kiss on the Streets.

by evelyndepp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, also Ron getting hit by multiple snowballs, winter kisses and muggle traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:35:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelyndepp/pseuds/evelyndepp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry is amused, Draco is cold, and Ron thinks everyone is barking mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco's New Year, or How to Kiss on the Streets.

“I should have known you were up to something. You’re always up to something. You and Granger, that is. I can’t believe I’m allowing you to drag me into this.” Draco finishes fixing his scarf and turns away from the mirror, trying to pull his most convincing version of a Malfoy scowl.

Harry just shoots him a grin across the hall of Grimmauld Place and reaches for his coat. Draco scowls a bit more.

“Relax, you bugger. It’s not like you’re going to be suffering alone. Ron is as reluctant about this as you are, if not more.”

“And that is supposed to console me how, exactly? United in our misery with the Weasel,  on New Year’s Eve of all times. Honestly, Potter, I thought my emotional state meant something to you.”

Harry _snickers_ at that, the bastard.  “Well, first of all, we had a deal. Which you proposed, mind you. What we do on Christmas Eve is up to you. What we do on New Year’s Eve is up to me.”

“But I didn’t know you would want us to be surrounded by _muggles!”_  And it’s not like Draco hates them. Not anymore, at least. He’s not sure he ever did, if he’s honest with himself.  And he tries to be, more often than not. Especially when one Harry Potter is concerned.  

He’s good at that, Harry. Being honest with himself and attuned to his own feelings, as well as the others’.  And that is something they talked about a lot, when they first got a hold of each other in this new, post-war world, almost 6 months ago now. They talked and talked and talked, while a certain 3 year old Teddy Lupin was sleeping peacefully upstairs, blissfully unaware of his godfather and newly acquired cousin’s (aka weekend babysitters) heated discussions. Which quickly turned into hours-long conversations about everything and anything, about all the things they wanted to tell each other but never had a chance to, for one reason or another. Until one day  a said Teddy Lupin ran downstairs in anticipation of a Sunday breakfast and stopped short in the kitchen doorway , drowsily blinking as he stared at his favourite cousin tightly hugging his no less favourite godfather from behind, while the said godfather was making tea. Both were wearing ridiculous matching grins. Teddy sighed at that and concluded that it was time, after all.  Smart guy, he is, even at this young age.

“They’re not going to eat you, I can promise you that. Besides, we DID spend Christmas with your family, and I DID participate in a staring contest with your father for the whole evening. Without  a single snide remark, mind you. And really, I can’t see how some muggles who you aren’t even going to be talking to are worse than a whole evening in company of someone who hates you.”

Draco sighs at that. He starts walking towards Harry, who has just finished putting on that ridiculous thing he calls a hat and is now looking at him with a slightly exasperated expression , until he has him pinned against the nearest wall, one hand on Harry’s hip, the other gently cupping Harry’s jaw.

“He doesn’t _hate_ you, silly. He’s just being difficult, for old time’s sake. He’ll come around, now that mother has given him a proper talk after we left, I’m sure of it.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Harry huffs, and Draco involuntarily drops his gaze to his mouth. He _does_ have a lovely mouth, the git. Frankly, he does have lovely everything, Draco muses, just as Harry notices him staring and smiles slowly, that impossible grin of his that makes Draco’s poor heart go faster than medically recommended.

Just as he leans in to do _something_ with that smug, knowing look on Harry’s face, a firm hand quickly pushes him away, and Potter is off, running towards the door and pulling it open, letting the cold December wind into the house.

“C’mon, Malfoy, don’t want Ron and ‘Mione to freeze their asses off because of us!”

He’s still smiling, even wider now, and Draco, not for the first time, realizes how deeply and truly fucked he is.

He doesn’t mind a bit.

 

                                                                              ~*~

“Oi, you prat! That hurt! What happened to ‘no hitting from behind’??”

A woman passing them on a sidewalk throws an accusatory look in Ron’s direction and pulls two boys (must be her sons), age somewhere between eight and ten, hurriedly after her, but not before one of them manages to turn around and grin at Draco, seemingly in awe of his aiming skills. Draco winks at him.

Ron is still shaking his head, trying to get the remnants of snow out of that ginger explosion some call hair. Just before Draco starts to lean down in order to get another fistful of snow, an arm wings around his waist and lips press to a small naked patch of skin on Draco’s neck. He grumbles for a few moments, just for the sake of it, but quickly gives up and leans against Harry’s chest, head turned to a side just enough to press his nose somewhere near Harry’s temple.  

“That’s quite enough for today, don’t ya think? Thought I admit, I did not imagine you beating Ron in a snowball fight, he’s good at it. Usually. Well done, you.”

“Never underestimate me, Potter,” Draco murmurs, pleased, as he proceeds to nuzzle further into Harry, passers-by be damned. “Never do,” comes a reply, as the grip on his waist tightens.

“We’re in the middle of _London_ , for Godric’s sake!” hisses Ron somewhere behind them.

“Shush, Ronald.”

“-But ‘Mione!...”

“Yes, shush, Weasel.”

“ _Draco!_ ”

Hermione groans, pushing Ron ahead with one hand between his shoulder blades and trying to get a hold of Harry’s coat to pull both him and Malfoy after them with another. “Have you even glanced at the clock?? It’s nearly quarter to midnight!”

It’s an unspoken agreement after that to fall silent and walk faster. Walking turns to running soon after they see exactly how many people are there ahead of them (thousands, maybe), gathering all around the embankment near a huge building which Potter has previously described as a “Muggle Parliament”, whatever that is, and it’s madness. Draco’s head spins a little, and he grips Harry’s hand tightly, getting a firm squeeze in response.

“Merlin’s balls, this is barking mad!” Ron whispers in his ear, sounding equally as thrown off balance as Draco feels, and he smiles a little at that, nodding in response. Weasley is alright, really. When he isn’t too keen on being a wanker, that is. But he’ll do.

“And now what?” Draco says to no one in particular, feeling the wind, stronger now when they’re near water, creep under his coat. He shivers at that.

“And now we wait,” proclaim Granger and Harry in chorus, sounding too cheerful for their own good. Draco fights an urge to scowl. How someone can be as pleased as these two, in the middle of a horrifically huge crowd, at night, in the cold, is beyond him.

He opens his mouth to ask _what_ exactly they’re waiting for when the crowd actually _gasps._

 _“_ Look, look up there!”  Harry whispers in his ear as he points at a huge сlock to their right (Big Ben, thank you very much, he knows _that_ , at least). The big hand reaches 10, 11, 12, and…

“TWELVE!” comes a roar around them, which nearly deafens him, and they’re counting. _Of course_ they’re counting, that’s what this is all about, then.

“ELEVEN!” Draco casts a quick glance at Weasley, and he’s gaping, as overwhelmed already as Draco himself is, while Granger is laughing at him and nudging his shoulder,

“TEN!” He turns to look at Harry then, who’s laughing too, watching his reaction,

“NINE!” Harry is mouthing now, still laughing, and Draco can’t help himself, he opens his mouth…

“EIGHT!” and he can’t even hear his own voice,

“SEVEN!” Weasley and Granger join in,

 “SIX!” his pulse is speeding up,

“FIVE!” and he can’t look away from him,

“FOUR!” his eyes are bright, shining with life and laughter and _joy,_ and he’s _so beautiful,_

 _“_ THREE!” and Draco is laughing, too,

“TWO!” and Harry is leaning in,

“ONE!!” and Draco is sure he will never learn how to breathe again,

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” and he is drowning, or flying, or crying, he isn’t really sure anymore, because Harry is kissing him, and the sky above them is exploding with colour, and people are cheering, and shouting, and laughing, and at this moment Draco knows for sure that everything is finally going to be fine. Exhilarating, frustrating, brilliant and maddening in the best way possible, and he’s kissing back, holding Harry’s face in his hands, and he just knows. Draco Malfoy is finally home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first fic, so i really hope you enjoyed. Any feedback is very welcome and appreciated.  
> And a Happy New Year!


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